


Brutal Empathy

by teaandchess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Porn, F/M, Heavy Angst, Rough Sex, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 08:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11078001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandchess/pseuds/teaandchess
Summary: Post-Purgatory, Castiel has reunited with the Winchesters. In his need to recover, he follows them loyally until one night at a bar a familiar presence appears. Meg has fought her way free without the help of her one-time ally. Only this Meg is not as willing to forgive his abandonment as he hopes





	Brutal Empathy

They hadn’t wanted to stop but the start of a freak storm had sent nearly everyone on the road going for cover. Icy roads and cold winds had been enough for the Winchesters and their angel to seek cover for a few hours to try to calm down after their last encounter with Crowley and his demons. After losing Kevin yet again when the prophet had given them the slip. But the moment they had entered the bar, they had all known it might be a mistake.  
    It was like being caged after a brief flirtation with freedom.  
    After a year in Purgatory, Dean and Castiel both found the crowded interior of the bar more acutely than they ever would have before. For Dean, it was nerve-wracking; every clatter of glass on wood, every raised voice, and every booming bass line brought back memories of the insanity of Purgatory. His hands remained tightly clenched around the edge of the table, nails digging into the wood so that they left tiny drag marks.  
    Watching him from across the table, Castiel sensed every shift in his friend, every change of emotion as acutely as he felt his own. For the angel, the bar was pressure weighing down on top of his shoulders. It made him feel every year of his impossible age, made his vessel ache and his eyelids droop a little. But he was too used to the wars in Heaven and Hell to become as jumpy as Dean.  
    But he’d been irritable since his improbable return from Purgatory, put on edge by what all had changed. From Dean’s odd relationship with the vampire to Sam’s sullen attitude about hunting, his friends were changing before his very eyes.  
    And the one thing he had hoped for, longed for to give him some consistency was gone. Burning and nothing more than a smoking soul if he knew Crowley. He was running out of friends and allies again.  
    Castiel sighed and stared at Dean and wondered why both Dean and Sam refused to tell him anything about her.  
    The hunter flicked his green eyes up at him and squinted a little.      “You okay, Cas?”  
     “I’m fine. Just… unused to this sort of company still,” Castiel explained, waving his hand around. He made a face. “I forgot the smell of humans.”  
    Dean blinked. “I’d be pissed if I thought you were trying to insult me.”  
     “It’s not an insult, Dean. It’s pheromones and emotions. After Purgatory I hadn’t thought I might… miss that odd sign of life.”     Castiel sighed and fidgeted, pulling his sleeves down towards his knuckles again. “I suppose I am still a little tired.”  
    Dean nodded. “Me too, buddy. I don’t think I’ll ever feel one hundred percent normal again.”  
    His eyes flicked to the bar and Castiel recognized the look. Dean was looking for threats, for violence, and there was a tension in his jaw, a darkness in his eyes. He was anticipating it as much as he was longing for it.  
    Castiel dropped his eyes to the table again and shuddered, feeling for his Grace. Its dampened power and warmth flooded through him, like a welcome warm bath and it was comforting that some things might be the same. The pressure and urge to protect himself ebbed a little and he shut his eyes to enjoy the brief, intangible sensation of being home.  
    Then his entire form, the one trapped in the vessel and compressed to a mere shade of itself, fixed on something it hadn’t sensed in a long time.  
    He felt it right to his core and it was as if the room changed around him, time slowing and the pressure increasing once more from his head to his feet. It felt surreal and he opened his eyes quickly to see Dean not paying him any attention. He straightened on the bench and looked around anxiously, struggling to be discreet.  
    There was shift in the air and a push against his senses, then a slight scent that drifted beneath the odours of the bar. Beneath the smells of sour sweat, smoke and spilt beer, he picked up something more subtle but so familiar that his Grace prickled. If he was able to show his wings without killing the humans, he’d like have snapped them out in the air like a banner and let them reveal his agitation.  
    His vessel and his true form knew that scent as intimately as he knew Dean’s and Sam’s. Though he’d never admit to it to either of them  
    It didn’t stop him from inhaling deeply through his nose until the scent drifted to linger on his tongue. Cinnamon tinged with sulphur, a bitter combination that was at once too much and too little. Dragging his eyes away from the edgy movements of the crowd, Castiel glanced over at the brass-lined bar.  
    Nothing. Nothing to reveal why that scent had come.  
    It was stupid to think there might be something. Hadn’t he learned better than to just think such foolish thoughts? That maybe… just maybe, he’d been wrong?  
    Castiel started to look away as Sam came back to their table, putting bottles on the table with the resigned air of a martyr, but a small movement caught his eye. He would have missed it he hadn’t been looking for it. It was barely visible to human eyes but he saw the wisps of smoke before he saw the demon it belonged to. Obviously female, obviously demon. Seeing the demon from behind, he would have mistaken her for one of the many young women who seemed to be dotted around the room but he knew that smell. Knew those tendrils of grey matter because he’d seen the beauty beneath them once though he shouldn’t have.  
    No… no… this was wrong. This imperfect moment shouldn’t be happening. Not here. Not after accepting that odd sting of grief over something he shouldn’t have cared for.  
    Perched on a stool at the edge of the bar, the demon’s head was bent low and nearly touching the bar’s surface, her thin fingers curled around a glass tightly. Castiel stiffened, watching the way her long dark hair slid down the back of her leather jacket and her neck curved to the side to reveal a delicate patch of pale skin. Ignoring the stares of the men beside her, she rubbed at her neck and then took a long drink from her glass. The humans, the ones who didn’t know what she was, were staring at her with open lust and not realizing that she wasn’t paying attention to any of them. Not realizing that she could tear them apart so easily.  
    Torn between relief, elation, horror and grief, Castiel tried to look away from her and couldn’t.  
    He almost whispered her name aloud but stopped himself from doing so. Only his mind reached out to touch at hers, to brush through the darkness to see if he was being fooled. But there was the familiar burn of cold darkness that he’d grown used to, the ache of a soul left too long to pain and torment. He knew that soul, the darkness that seemed trapped in the abandoned shell of a young woman, and he knew it almost too intimately.  
_Are you actually here?_  
    Her shoulders stiffened and he watched as an invisible poker appeared to go right up her spine. Her hand was shaking as she lifted the glass to her lips. Castiel still stared, waiting, hoping for a response; even going so far as to open his mind a little to let her respond.  
    Sam snapped his fingers in front of Castiel’s glazed eyes and the angel jumped, inhaling sharply the breath he’d forgotten to take.  
    Both Winchesters were staring at him.  
     “Cas? You okay?”  
     “I’m fine,” Castiel answered sharply, eyes darting between them and the bar. Dean started to turn and he tensed up. He should tell the others, he knew; demons were more than dangerous and he had his loyalties…  
     “Did you see a redhead you liked or something?” Dean asked with a wicked grin, leaning back in his seat. He took a long draw of his beer and set the bottle back down with a clatter. Castiel flicked his eyes to where the demon had been and saw that her seat had been taken by an older woman with unnaturally red hair.  
     “I just…”  
    There was no way he could tell them if he wasn’t even sure he had seen her.  
     “I think I should go. Find information on Kevin’s whereabouts. The angels won’t talk to either of you but I’m sure they will talk to me. Or I can find a demon to force the information out of.”  
     “All work and no play, Cas.” Dean started to peel the label on his bottle. “I don’t like the idea of you going back to the angels on your own.”  
     “I need to try. I’ll be back as soon as I can be.”  
    Sam eyed him. “You’re sure?”  
    They locked eyes and he knew that Sam could see through him. But the younger Winchester simply shrugged. “Do what you think is best, Cas. You know we trust you.”  
    Don’t fuck it up, his eyes almost warned.  
    Castiel stood from the table and gave them both a curt nod and small smile. Dean held out his hand and put it on Castiel’s arm. “Just be careful, ‘kay? We didn’t just get you back out just to lose you again.”  
    Holding his stare, Castiel smiled more honestly to him. “I’ll be fine. I’ll take the door out, less people to notice me.”  
    Dean gave him a squeeze and then let him go, but Castiel felt his eyes on his back as he walked towards the side door. Pushing through the crowd and trying to ignore how such closeness started to trouble him, he pushed open the emergency exit and stepped out into the cold air.  
    The wind picked up instantly, snatching the door from his hand and slamming it behind him. Castiel shouldered his coat closer over his body and breathed out slowly. Icy fog let him know that it was likely colder than he was feeling and he shifted on his feet, looking right and then left.  
    Nothing. No one was out in this cold when there was a warm bar nearby.  
    Maybe he was seeing what he wanted to see.  
    He sighed and shook his head. Shifting his weight to his heels, he was ready to fly off to where he’d last seen Kevin to try to look for some sort of sign when he heard footsteps. Walking away from him.  
    That curious scent suddenly lingered in the air, a spice almost beckoning him to follow it and he spun on his heel to follow the footsteps. He lengthened his stride, choosing to walk instead of flying into the middle of a trap, and turned the corner into the alley. The dumpsters and discarded scrap metal that decorated it formed an even narrower corridor and the darkness of it pointed towards the figure walking ahead of him.  
    The click-click of heels drove him on and he held his hands loose at his sides, ready to lower his blade if he needed it.  
    He was closing in when she stopped suddenly, the movement so jarring that the demon teetered on her heels for a moment before standing still. Castiel stopped as well, eyes adjusting immediately to the shadows and the scarce light thrown off by the fizzling lampposts, and waited. His fingers flexed in the air, his power trying to fix the shadows and light so he could see better.  
    The one overhead light popped and cracked, and suddenly he could see every detail.  
    Exhaling out foggy breath, she shrugged her shoulders and her hands clenched into fists at her sides.  
     “Can’t tell when a girl wants to be alone, can you?”  
    With a slow turn on her heel, Meg turned towards him. She managed to look bored and angry all at once without putting much effort into it.  
    Castiel didn’t answer, couldn’t answer because he wasn’t sure how he could. He only stared at her so hard that his eyes ached at the sight of her.  
    Her dark head tilted on the side and she smiled coolly.  
     “Cat got your tongue, Clarence?”  
    That husky drawl, all sarcasm on the top layer and underneath bitter and in pain, made his shoulder slump a little. Castiel walked a few steps towards her and tried not to notice how she looked ready to run.  
     “Meg… I… I thought you were…”  
     “Dead? Tortured? Personal bitch to Hell?” she asked and she crossed her arms over her chest. While she tried to look relax, the grip of her nails in the leather of her coat gave her away. “Likely the worst present ever for you. Here I am, angel. Trapped in this old bag of flesh thanks to Crowley and definitely not a happy camper.”  
     “I didn’t…”  
    Not giving him a chance, she looked him over. “So. You abandoned the short bus to crazy town, I see.”  
     “Yes.”  
     “Cookie for you.”  
    He swallowed down the bile in his throat when he looked at her face, her true face, and saw the pain there. It wasn’t like the demon he’d known before, whether in holy fire, in battle or in alliance. She’d changed, as much as he had, and he could see it clear as day.  
    Meg stepped back. “Stop that.”  
     “Stop what?”  
     “You’re trying to read me. I never liked when you did that.”  
     “I…” He stepped toward her, holding out his hand, and she took another step back. “I was worried. I was trying to find you.”  
     “Really?” Meg tossed her hair over her shoulder and chuckled, a dry sound without any humour. “You really looked it in there, sucking back beers with your boyfriends.” She pressed her hands over her breasts as if to show her innocence. “I’m just all a-whirl that you, precious, were worried about little old me. Just remember…”  
    She moved fast and was suddenly in his face, all beautiful fury and pain. “I don’t need your help or your protection. You weren’t there anyway.”  
    Castiel managed to hold her gaze as best as he could though his angelic nature sensed her threat and started to blaze through. “I would have…”  
     “Done what?” Meg slowly started to walk around him. “Stormed Hell to find me? I doubt it. You all got what you wanted. A demon to make sure the precious angel didn’t croak or kill himself. I’m starting to think I was the one being used.”  
    She spat out the words in an almost mechanical way, as if she’d rehearsed this and he turned towards her again. Their eyes met and she bit back whatever else she’d been about to say.  
     “How? How did you get out?”  
    She looked to the side. “I don’t know. The way I always do I guess. I survived long enough to know a few tricks.”  
     “I’m glad.”  
     “Lying is my job, remember? Me, the demon who doesn’t change and is worthy of every torture in Hell?” she snapped and Castiel shook his head a little, stepping towards her. She backed up and he kept following her, wanting her to stop and calm down. Her anger caused the air to feel oppressive around him. “How did you find me?”  
      “I didn’t. This is coincidence.” Meg exhaled again and he took the opportunity to look at her more closely. “You’re in pain.”  
     “Yeah, you would be too after over hundred years of Crowley’s best carving into you.” Meg continued to back up and her lips parted in a snarl. “Though I admit, he did teach me a good lesson.”  
    Castiel turned his head a little on the side. “Such as…”  
     “Don’t trust anyone. I keep forgetting that rule it seems. I really should have slit your throat the minute you were down in the hospital bed because a lot of good you did me when the chips were down.” Her eyes narrowed a little and he was repelled by the anger he saw there. “And I should have buried that demon knife in Dean Winchester’s heart.”  
    Instinctively, he raised his hand towards her, years of protecting the Winchesters coming back to him. Meg stepped in towards him until his fingers touched her forehead.  
     “Do it,” she growled and Castiel shook his head, putting his hand back down.  
     “Why?”  
     “Because it’s better than the alternative.” She looked down at her body and plucked at her leather coat. “Rotting in a meatsuit like some human.” Meg’s nose wrinkled up at the thought. “Been there, done that.”  
    He backed up a few steps. “I would have looked for you, but I…”  
     “Right.”  
     “I’ve only been back hunting…”  
    Meg’s scowl turned her borrowed face pinched and angry. “So I’m supposed to be thankful that you don’t gank me? If wishes were horses we’d all be into bestiality by now. I don’t need your help, Castiel. So feel free to leave me alone if you’re not going to smite me. We can fight later.”  
    She turned and started to walk down the alley and he sighed, shaking his head again. Prickly demon. He knew he was glad to see her, relieved even but her anger quickly starting to transfer to him and he knew she was affecting him.  
     “How did you get out?” Castiel asked as he apparated in front of her. She didn’t even hesitate, merely walked around him with a bored look on her face.  
     “Why?” Meg shot over her shoulder. “Want to know a way into Crowley’s back door?”  
    Castiel’s jaw clenched. “If you would just stand still…”  
     “Or what?” She was nearly at the end of the alley.  
     “Or I’ll make you.”  
    She turned on him again and he back-pedalled from the tiny demon as she stormed up to him, dark power snapping around her. “You? You’ll make me?” Her lips curled up at the edges. “I took over a hundred years of Crowley’s torture without breaking. Trust me, he did get inventive. What. The.Fuck. Do you think YOU can do that he can’t, Clarence?”  
    He turned his head away. “I am simply trying to understand.”  
     “There’s nothing to understand. I got out. End of story. Buh-bye.” She turned around and looked at the nearby bar’s backdoor. “I need a damn drink now that you ruined my buzz.”  
    Castiel stiffened.      
     “We’re not done, Meg, not yet,” he warned and she shook her head as she looked at him.  
     “We are finished. So go off and fuck your pet humans next, but leave me out of your little Free Will orgy. I’m doing what I do best. Alone and fighting. The way I should have kept it.” Spinning neatly on her heel, she grabbed hold of the door handle and Castiel knew he’d lose her in the crowd if he wasn’t careful.  
    He grabbed her by a fistful of her coat, hauling her back out of the door way. Meg slammed her elbow back until it connected with his nose and he  threw his head back, trying to dodge the blow. His vessel’s nose broke under the impact, bone splintering through the skin, and he reeled backward as blood spurted. Through the shock of pain and the instinctive flare of power to heal, he saw her boot heel come out next.  
    He didn’t get his hands up in time to block the kick to his chest and he went flying back through the air, crashing into the dumpster. Castiel landed so hard against the metal that he felt every bone in his body rattle. Meg rolled her neck from side to side as if to ease the pressure, and as he picked himself up from the dumpster’s crumbled side her hands tightened into fists at her side. He felt pain go flaring through his body and he grunted, putting his hands on his knees in surprise.  
     “Please tell me you have a bit more kick than that.” Meg jutted her chin out when he looked up at her. “Because this won’t be any fun if you’re weak as a kitten.”  
     “I don’t want to fight you,” he muttered, wiping the blood away from his mouth and nose. His nose was already fixing itself and he had to blink a few times to really focus on her.  
    Meg’s eyes changed colour and the sight made him straighten up to get a better look. No longer black but a milky grey, they made her pale face ghostly. Realizing what it meant, he could only stare at her.  
      “That’s a shame, Clarence. Because right now I really feel like kicking your ass. We had an agreement. You owed me. You failed. I got an upgrade the very hard way.”  
     “I…”  
    A crunch of pain, unexpected and brutal, went through his chest and he went flying into the wall again. The brick crumbled under the impact and he went to his stomach, leaving an indent in the pavement. Meg took a few steps towards him, her heels clicking ominously in the silence, and her breath came out in foggy wafts while she stared at him.  
     “Good thing I picked up some tricks.” She fixed her hair with meticulous care. “I had a lot of time to learn them when Crowley was off hounding the Trans. Thank Hell for deals, huh?”  
    Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Castiel put his hands on the icy pavement and pushed himself up to all fours just as she came mere inches away from him. Meg’s fingers grabbed a handful of his dark hair and forced his head back. She leaned close, bringing with her that cinnamon and hellfire smell, and Castiel stared into her milky eyes. Her other hand went to cup his chin and he winced at the ice of her skin.  
    "Come on, precious. Make me feel something.“ For a brief moment he saw a flash go through her true face, something he’d not seen in a demon before, but it was gone before he could process it. She lowered her head and brutally kissed him, the sort of wrenching force of lips and teeth that was meant to punish.  
    The taste of her mouth was of blood and despair, and he pulled his mouth away from hers.  
    He lifted his hand and with a flex of his fingers he sent her crashing into the opposite wall of the alley. The brick sent up a wave of dust in the cold wind as she slid down the wall and Meg collapsed to her knees. Wiping at his mouth, the angel stood and put his hands to his sides again.  
     "Why are you doing this?” he asked as he walked towards her. Meg gave a low laugh, the sort of wretched sound Alastair might have given, and stood up, shifting her shoulders a little.  
     “You expected me not to fight?” She slid her hand up her side and tapped her fingers on her breastbone. “Demon, remember? Natural enemies to you righteous monks.”  
     “We weren’t enemies,” Castiel said. “Not in the end.”  
     “No?” She arched a brow and managed to look impressed. “Don’t mistake my occasional lusty thought about you to make you think for once I ever liked you, feathers. We’re not friends.”  
    The lie hung heavy in the air and he clung to the belief that she was lying when he watched her masked expression.  
     “We’re not enemies now either.”  
     “You need to sort your priorities. What happened? Get a crush on lil’ old me?” She put her hand on her cheek and looked shocked. “What would your bros in Heaven say?”  
     “Meg,” Castiel started as they walked towards each other. “I just want to understand… I’m trying…”  
    She rolled her eyes. “I’d rather fight than hear your attempts at Maury Po-Bitch.”  
     “I don’t…”  
     “Understand the reference. Yeah, that figures. How about this one?” She lashed out and the punch cracked against his jaw. His head rocked to the side, the startling amount of pain he felt from the impact surprising him. Meg hissed and shook her hand out, not having expected her own pain from the blow.  
    Castiel rolled his eyes and looked at her.  
      “Fine. This one then.”  
    Her fingers did a slow twist and the dumpster behind them suddenly spun out, catching him in the back. He just managed to keep his feet when he saw her next blow coming towards his face and he lashed out, catching her on the face with his own punch. A flash of pain went up his arm and he took a knee to the stomach when he failed to block her next kick.  
    Meg laughed as she twisted out of his grip, her hand whirling in a circle so that the dumpster went crashing into him. Ignoring the way the metal crunched around his body, he sent it back with a kick of his heel. Once he was clear of the dumpster, Castiel went charging forward and he snatched her arm, whirling her around him so that he had her squeezed between the dumpster and the wall.  
    Not sure what else he could do, he put his hand on her forehead and felt for that surge of power. The cold air snapped around them as he struggled to find what he needed and he felt a chill go up his spine.  
    But his doubt and guilt kept his Grace from surging to his aid and when he stared at her he realized he couldn’t do it.  
    Meg’s face was calm again, almost welcoming the chance at death, and he flexed his fingers against her hairline. The demon’s twisted smile faded a little when she realized he wasn’t going to do what she wanted.  
     “Bastard. You can’t do it, can you?” she growled, lifting her other hand. Castiel saw her fingers go for his throat and he grabbed her hand with his, clamping her wrists together to keep her from fighting him further.  
     “Why do you want me to kill you?” he demanded and she laughed, looking away from him with a roll of her eyes. “We don’t have to fight, Meg. I’m not here to hunt you. I’ve no interest in killing you.”  
    The amount of emphasis he put on the “you” startled her into looking back at him. Her eyes went that milky colour that should have been repulsive to him.  
     “You really should.” She nodded her head up at where he still held her hands. “Because that’s how this is going to end and we both know it. I knew it the day I figured out I’d been left in Hell to burn.”  
     “It doesn’t have to end like this, Meg. I don’t want it to,” he muttered. She flicked her eyes up at him, all at once innocent, and he felt her fingers flex down. “You don’t need to want death from me.”  
     “Needs and wants, right, angel?” She leaned her head forward and he watched her, not able to see beyond the lie she was showing him. “Maybe just one more time to indulge before I kill you then for leaving me to burn.”  
    Before he could answer Castiel saw the shift in her eyes back to dark brown. Thrusting her head up, she kissed him again and he froze, staring at her open eyes. She grinned wickedly through the kiss, tongue darting out to swipe at his lower lip and he shuddered in memory of another time. Meg was using the kiss, using his memory, to try to bend him. He’d been so long without contact with another being, without feeling anything beyond fear and guilt, that the bolt of desire that went through him nearly had him staggering away. Her teeth closed around his tongue when he tried to protest and he felt the sharp edges of her teeth dig into the flesh. He let her wrists go as he returned the kiss, mouth pressing hard against hers in desperate need to try to keep her from dominating him. Meg staggered her legs against his so she could lift up against him, and he felt her power flex around them, pain circulating through his body.  
    His grace snarled around them, dominating her power and forcing it to recede and he heard thunder crack around them, nearly in time with the cold blast of wind that went up his spine.  
    Her hand was suddenly in his hair, tightening to the point of pain, and her teeth closed around his upper lip when he tried to get out of the kiss.  
     “What?” Meg mumbled as she wrenched his head back, his lip pulling back through her teeth and slicing deeply. Castiel slammed his hand into the brick behind her and let her go, using his other hand to touch the bite mark. His fingers came away bloody and she glared at him when he looked at her.  
    His shock amused her.  
     “Come on, Clarence. It’s either flee, fight or fuck. And we all know which one you’re real good at.” She leaned in, eyes glinting in fury. “Run along, choir boy, and go back to being what you’re real good at. A bitch to the Winchesters.”  
    He stared at her and realized she was trying to make him run, the same way Dean had once by insulting his own friends. Unlike Dean, she had no friends, no lovers, no siblings, no parent to care about what happened to her. Except for him. And he wasn’t sure where he fit in any of those things when they ran in such opposite sides.  
    His curiosity had always been the death of him.  
      “I’m not going to run, Meg.”  
     “And you won’t fight,” she continued for him and she rolled her eyes again. “Well, aren’t you just all out of options?”  
    She barely managed to get that out before he lowered his head and kissed her with the same brutality she’d shown him. The hand in his hair yanked hard, nearly ripping hair from his scalp, and he grabbed it with his free hand to pin it to the brick. He could feel her power snapping around him and without thought he flexed his own so that it bent time and made everything seem slower.  
    His lips sunk into hers, pushing the soft flesh apart so he could taste the darkness when his tongue drifted into her mouth. His vessel’s muscle memory didn’t fail him, the remnants of Jimmy’s memory helping him dodge her snapping teeth and angry pulls. He let his fingers drift down her wrist as he kissed her, pulling her jacket sleeve down to her elbow. In some foggy corner of his busy mind, he realized that her wrist stayed pinned by her own will, not his.  
    Everything seemed to be swirling in a haze as her power filled in the gaps left by his and he lifted his head to stare into her eyes. The faint distracted look there was encouraging but she was recovering quickly, the finishing gentleness of his kiss not having a lasting effect.  
    She wanted to fight. Not for any real reason except to have him punish her and to punish him for the betrayal she’d thought he’d committed.  
    The pieces of memory, of the times he’d watched the humans interact, filled in the blanks and he grabbed a fistful of her dark hair and yanked her close to him. She wanted his anger, his destruction, and he fed that want by kissing her harder, forcing her lips to part and her body to push into him. Meg’s hands lowered to his shoulders and he felt her fingers bunch in the coat’s panels.  
    There was a momentary push of telekinesis and he felt her pushing him away, almost succeeding. He whirled her around, shoving her back against the dumpster and the wall once more. The metal crunched under the impact and she groaned as her head bumped it hard. She managed to rip her lips away from his with an audible pop and he glared down at her.  
     “What, trying tricks there, flyboy?”  
     “You won’t let me talk,” he pointed out and his head lowered. Without thinking, her mouth lifted against his and he ghosted his lips against the ridge of her jaw. “Seems like the only option is to remind you how things had really been between us at one point.”  
    He felt her shoulders shift. “We made out once and you tried it only one other time when you were fruit loops. Doesn’t change a damn thing.”  
     “You’re not being fair. I only wanted to tell you how things were, why I wasn’t there to save you,” he snapped and Meg snarled back up at him, her eyes slicking to marble grey and then brown.  
     “Life’s not fair, Feathers. Why should I fight fair?” she demanded and surged upward against the pressure of his hand. Her other hand lashed out and Castiel saw it coming, his fingers wrapping around her wrist and pinning it against the wall. Meg gave a frustrated sound and arched her back, which pushed her body even more against his and Castiel gave a furious sound.  
     “Son of a bitch.” She twisted and made an exasperated grunt. “And you say I don’t fight fair!”  
    Castiel’s grin was cool. “I’m stronger than you. I’ve always been stronger than you.”  
     “Pride goeth before your fucking fall and all that crap,” she growled under her breath, looking up into his face. Her jaw jutted out defiantly and he lowered his head again, kissing her to shut her up.  
    He’d forgotten how easy it was to want something he couldn’t have  
    Caught on her words, her tongue drifted out just a little and grazed his bottom lip, caressing it teasingly. He groaned an Enochian word that she’d never understand against her mouth and Meg’s lips parted under his further. Demanding a response from him that he wasn’t sure he should give. She was up to something and he knew better than to trust a demon who suddenly changed her moods. No matter how it made him feel. Castiel felt her hips start a slow rocking against his and his mind felt shocked by how quickly this had turned from a fight to passion when his head started to cloud.  
    Though, hadn’t Dean once told him that the two were interchangeable?  
    Meg broke her contact and let her head rest back against the wall, his hands still holding her hair and one wrist. His eyes drifted back to her dark gaze, feeling the snap of her power rebelling under his. Something wavered in her expression and he blinked, swallowing down a lump that had formed in his throat.  
    She looked uncertain.  
    Then Meg’s expression transformed to her usual sarcastic grin. “What? Cat got your tongue? Or is that demon?”  
    Castiel hesitated and dropped his eyes to her mouth again, his breath just ghosting over hers. Meg arched an eyebrow at him, her self confidence back and her gaze on his expression.  
     “Are we going to fight or are you just going to keep me pinned up here?” She wriggled her hips. “I’m starting to go a little numb, either way.”  
     “You just won’t stop talking. It makes fighting with you…”  
     “Annoying?”  
     “Difficult.” Castiel’s eyes were still on her mouth. “I can’t focus.”  
    Meg’s eyes glinted and she started to say just how pitiful that was when his mouth crashed over hers. It was bruising and their teeth clicked together painfully hard, Meg’s attempt to retain control still crumbling under the onslaught. Castiel’s hand in her hair yanked back and she staggered into him. Her neck felt stretched out and yet his mouth was suddenly so encompassing.  
    Meg’s body twisted lithely under his grip, and he let her go to grab her by her hips, crushing her against him. When he let her go, his hands grabbed next at the crumbling brick at her back, trapping her between his arms and he flicked his tongue into her mouth while his hips surged against hers instinctively. Despite the cold air, his skin felt hot and flushed and Meg’s hands slid up his sides to cup his face between them.  
     She turned his head to the side and licked at his throbbing pulse and he closed his eyes, unprepared for the bolt of lust that went through him when she bit into the sensitive spot of skin. If she bit deeply enough, the demon could bleed him. Without thinking, he lowered his head further and sank his teeth into her throat gently, tasting that odd cinnamon mixture on his tongue.  
     “This your idea of a welcome back? A sorry for fucking me over?” she growled against his ear as she slid her hands between them. Hearing the jingle of his belt being opened, Castiel’s eyes opened and he looked down between them at her pale fingers, the length of them startling against the black of his belt. “I still hate you, you know.”  
     “I know.” Their eyes met and he managed to smirk despite the uncertainty he suddenly felt.      
    The demon fidgeted under his look. “One time only deal, sweetness, so I can back to trying to kill you without wondering what it’d be like to taint that angelic sainthood of yours.”  
    It was infuriating how those simple words suddenly made him angry. “Damn you.”  
    Meg laughed bitterly. “Already there, remember? Multiple times and last time was because of you not keeping your end of the deal.”  
    He grabbed her and twisted her around so she was face first into the brick, his hands wrenching the jacket down her arms and throwing it to the ground. She groaned against the wall as he pushed her hair over her shoulder and kissed her neck reverently, her frustration almost palpable that he wasn’t forcing her.  
     “Just fucking do it. Let’s get this over with so we can get back to how things should be. I’m bored already with you.”  
    He heard the anger in her voice but there was a desperate note there now, as if she was hiding how his gentleness affected her. He pulled her around and pushed her against the wall, his own body flush against hers. The tightening of her belly against his as he leaned into her made him shake his head.  
     “You can stop lying, Meg. I can always tell when you lie.”  
     “Why? Do my eyes flutter and get all wistful?” she snarled back as he gripped her silk shirt and thrust it up towards her collarbones. The cold air blasted against her pale skin and he watched as goose-bumps prickled over her skin, her nipples tightening under his eyes. Satisfied, he looked back up at her and managed to get his hand between them, sliding it under her waistband.  
     “It’s not on the outside. It’s on the inside. You flicker when you lie to me.” He leaned in and his mouth brushed her ear at the same time he slid his fingers between her thighs. Meg yelped and arched her back at the unexpected shift. “Like a candle.”  
     “Cut the poetic crap,” she managed as his fingers danced over the wet crotch of her panties before getting beneath them. He didn’t answer her for a moment, using his thumb to press against her clit. She cried out, startled by the feel of his cold hand on her, and he breathed out a gust of warm air into her ear while her hips bucked into his hand.  
     “Your vessel’s body is giving you away.” He nipped at her neck. “You can’t even blame it on her wanting me… she’s not in there with you anymore. I can feel the difference.”  
     “I hate you.” It came out in a moan as he slid a finger inside of her and rubbed his thumb in a circle over the throbbing nub he found fairly fascinating.  
     “I know.” He felt her breath shuddering against his ear. “And I missed you. If I’d known…”  
     “I said…”  
     “Put up or shut up. I know. You told me that often enough.” He pulled his fingers free of her pants and stepped back from her, putting a few inches between them but it was enough. Meg’s body swayed against the wall and her eyes fixed on him. Castiel stared back at her, breathing just as hard as her when her gaze wandered over his body. There was a mixture of hate and want in her eyes.  
     “I don’t want your pity,” Meg snapped. “The last thing I need is a pity fuck.”  
    Castiel tilted his head on the side. He looked ruffled and absurd, unbuckled belt and rumpled shirt pulled out of his waistband. “Who said anything about pity?”  
    She was on him before he could dodge her, leaping up against him and latching her legs around his waist. They went flying back against the opposing wall, his back slamming so hard that he felt the indenture of his spine nearly crack in protest, and Meg clawed at his shirt to pull him into a kiss. He cracked an eye open to make sure hers were closed before he used his wings to propel them back to where they had been. The nebulous shadows at his back sent the air up in cold blasts and he felt her gasp when he grabbed her shirt and ripped it in two.  
    He was thankful for Jimmy’s memories and Dean’s rather extensive porn collection when Meg’s body responded to the roughness of his actions.  
    Their eyes locked when he cupped her breast and broke the kiss. Her breathing was fast and he kept his eyes on her while lowering his head to suck her nipple into his mouth. Her hands grabbed at his hair, giving a half-hearted pull, but when he bit at her hardening skin her hands relaxed in his hair. Staring at her over the curve of her breast, he watched the desire chase away the anger on her face and felt the way her legs flexed around his waist to pull him in tighter. She wrapped his tie around her hand and kept hold of it like a lead.  
    He’d forgotten that demons were still very human in their desires. Closing his eyes, Castiel moaned and sucked harder on her nipple just to feel the way her body reacted.  
    When his mouth lifted from her breast, she pulled his head up until they met halfway in a kiss. Reaching down, he pulled her jeans open and her legs dropped from his waist with a disappointing loss of pressure. Shuddering with want, he quickly wrenched the denim down with the silk underwear she wore. He nearly tore them in his eagerness to get them over her boots before he threw the jeans and panties to the ground. Able to touch her bare skin, he slid his fingers up her thigh quickly, skimming creases and warming flesh before wrapping his arm around her legs again.  
    Boosting her up, he let his one hand trail through the wet skin he felt before thrusting into a quivering heat that clenched greedily around his fingers. The skin of her chest though was like ice from the cold and he lifted his mouth from her searching tongue to rest his forehead against hers. Her eyes were closed as he thrust his fingers into her, trying to find the reason why curling his fingers just so towards the front of her pelvis made her squirm.  
     “You’re wet,” he muttered absently and her eyes opened halfway. She arched her back so she lifted against him and his erection pressed back at her.  
     “You’re rock hard.” Meg’s eyes glinted. “Want to compare meatsuit parts? See who has the bigger cock?”  
    There was the humour he’d been expecting. Even if he wasn’t really sure what she meant.  
     “Well, being that you are female, I would expect that would be me.”  
    That earned him a sharp bark of laughter. Her hand dropped down and she opened his pants quickly with a rasp of his zipper so loud. His cock sprang free into her grip and he groaned, thrusting into her hand mindlessly.  
     “My, if I’d known you’d be this up for a rodeo, Clarence, I would have fucked you a long time ago before trying to kill you.”  
    Unable to think, he pushed himself into her stroking hand and trembled as she squeezed and rubbed gently, thumb swirling over the head slowly. When he heard her snarky chuckle, his own fingers stilled inside of her.  
     “Who’d know you’d be so low to fuck a demon against a wall, huh? Aren’t you afraid of Daddy seeing and crying?” she whispered against his mouth and his eyes opened, his fingers sliding from her body with a slow wet drag down her thigh. She was still trying to goad him into something other than sex, something other than a connection he was trying for, and his frustration was almost as deep as his lusts.  
    Not wanting to respond the way she wanted, he ripped his tie free from her hand and undid it with a skilled whip of his fingers. Meg’s hand still stroked his aching cock in a rough rhythm but her eyes were on him, clearly wondering.  
    He slid the silk around her neck and lifted it till it was in her mouth. Using her momentary lapse in control, he tied it securely and then dropped his hand back down between her legs. Her hands left him to try to dislodge the tie and he grabbed her wrists in his hand, the fragile bones almost cracking as she struggled against him. With  a growl of fury, Meg let her eyes blaze anger at him and he grinned wanly.  
    "Seems like the best method to keep you from saying something you’ll regret.“  
    Not about to let himself go back now, he reached between them and pushed himself into her, ignoring her groan. His body did a shudder and jerk, slick stifling heat clasping around his cock and holding him tightly. It was a sin to think it heavenly but for a moment it actually felt as if he’d come to something close to his real home. Meg moaned around the tie in her mouth, eyes rolling back as her jaw tightened.  
    Feeling her nails dig into his fingers, he opened his eyes and looked at her face. Managing to control the urge to simply slam himself into her again and again until he was done, he watched the change in the tense line of her jaw. The cold air gave her skin a ghostly glow and when her eyes fluttered open he still watched her to see how he affected her. Groaning and trying to open her mouth around the tie, Meg pushed her hips at him and he shuddered, thrusting up into her.  
    She was every bit as responsive as he was to the danger of the situation, knowing they might be caught and knowing who might do the catching.  
    Shifting his hips, he buried himself deeper into her and began to thrust hard, jabbing against the same spot he’d touched before to make her moan. Meg’s legs hooked behind his thighs to keep him closer and deeper, her body arching impatiently when he kept his pace slow but hard. Tiny noises escaped the gag in her mouth, and he bent a little at the knees to press his tongue to her neck, feeling the way the noises made her throat tighten and lift. It was only by using his vessel’s memories of sex, of using his own observations and control, that he was able to keep himself from ramming into her until he forgot why he shouldn’t be doing this.  
    She wanted it over quickly, wanted to try to make this less than what it was, but he wasn’t ready for that. He wondered about sex for so long that this wasn’t something he could rush.  
    Wondered about her and what sex with a demon might be like.  
     "I did miss you,” he muttered against her throat and he heard an angry murmur in response though the tie garbled it. He set a slower rhythm so he could talk between his thrusts and he felt the clench of her cunt grab and hold him, rippling in tiny contractions that distracted him. “I wondered what had happened. Where you were… if you prayed for me.”  
    There was another sound, unintelligible, and he chased it with his tongue along her skin until his head was against hers, his mouth resting against her bound lips.  
    Meg’s eyes were watching him, agony there from how slow he was moving. He could feel how badly she wanted him to move as he lifted his hands to cup her breasts, thumbing her nipples in impatient tight circles. Her body twisted under his warm hands, cold skin warming to his touch, and he let one breast go to grab at the brick behind her.  
    His mouth drifted against her forehead as he started to push harder and harder into her, his pelvis nearly crushing her clit between their close bodies. He felt like she was dripping around him and the sensation was enough to have him push for more.  
     “If you would ever scream for me.”  
    She screamed around the tie when he brutally began to thrust into her, while he lowered his head and rested it against her collarbone. Her hips arched in circles against him, straining to hold him where she wanted him, and he moaned against her skin when he felt her clenching around his cock. She’d wanted his anger and he poured it into her with every violent thrust and dragging retreat, wanting to punish her for not listening to him, for trying to force his hand.  
    For making him want her so much that he didn’t care about redemption or damnation.  
    His hands braced on the wall at her back as they moved hard against each other, Meg’s cries stopped by the silk gag and his muted by her shoulder. His fingers felt hot blood painting the brick but it didn’t register beyond the wet feeling of heat. His own blood pounded so loudly through him that his ears rang. Her entire body bowed up and she cried out as loud as she could, legs keeping him buried so deeply inside of her that he felt every throb of her cunt as she came. A vice-like grip held him so tight that he felt like he might drown in the wetness drenching his cock.  
    Unable to stop, he thrust into her again and again, mind blurring  and ears unable to tell to when her cries of pleasure mixed with moans of pain. He did want to hurt her, wanted to hurt everything about her that was wrong and yet was what he’d been wanting. What he’d grieved for after he learned that he’d lost his caretaker to Hell’s fire.  
    Damn her.  
    He wrapped his lips around the spot where her jugular pounded and sucked hard on the skin, until the blood vessels swelled and left a stinging red mark. His body screamed at him to stop and he felt the pressure building at the base of his spine. He felt torn between giving into the pleasure he was chasing and holding onto the thrill of chasing it. Meg’s arms wrapped around his shoulders to hold him closer and her fingers wrapped in his hair. Her nails gently scraped against his scalp and his body jerked. Pleasure and pain flooded through him as he spent himself in her body, cock pulsing and blood pounding so hard that he felt agonizing release rip through his entire body.  
    He cried out her name, her true name, against her neck and slumped bonelessly against her. His hands dragged uselessly down the brick and he heaved for breath. Crushed between him and the brick, Meg could only hold on and wait as he recovered. He could feel her squirming, trying to get free and he nudged her throat with his mouth, nipping at her skin to keep her still.  
    When he lifted his head to look down at her, flushed and out of breath, he realized how exposed they were. The sudden click of the door opening had her opening her eyes, ready to shove him away. Terrified of being caught and worried she might run, Castiel pressed his hand to her head and felt her slump into his arms as he apparated them out of the alley.  
   
~~~  
    It was when she woke up later that Castiel wondered if he was pushing things with the demon.  
     “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize how… brutal I could be.” Castiel sat on Meg’s motel bed, staring at her curiously as she rummaged for another shirt. Her back was a mess of scrapes and bruises, chunks of flesh missing from where the ragged brick had dug into her skin. She refused to let him heal her right away. She hadn’t spoken to him once since he’d woken her up in her motel room and he sensed her anger.  
    Castiel hadn’t left her alone because he knew what it would cost if he dumped her there and avoided what had happened.  
      “I’m fine,” she bit out. She nearly tore her other shirt in half but when she went to pull it over her head he was behind her, his hand on her back and keeping her from pulling the shirt down. “Don’t!”  
     “It’s the least I could do.” His fingers drifted over her back and she bit her lower lip in agony when his light sizzled through her. The blood and grime cleaned itself up before his eyes and she shuddered at the feeling of his power crawling over her skin. “Lessons learned I suppose. It may have seemed like a good idea at the time but perhaps the brick was an inappropriate place.”  
     “There won’t be a next time, so get your mind back to reality,” Meg snarled, trying to pull the shirt over her head again.  
     “Don’t be so sure,” he muttered smugly. “You certainly enjoyed yourself.”  
    She nearly succeeded in getting the shirt down when he stopped her. “I didn’t cause these.” His fingers drifted over her back, finding the raised welts and scars. He found the massive one that ran straight down her back. “And you can’t heal them?”  
     “That one… is when Crowley ripped my spine out, gave it to the dogs to play with, and then put it back in.” She turned around to glare at him as she finally got the shirt down. “Like I said. Inventive.”  
    She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her hand. “He started naming all my wounds that lasted, you know. The one on my foot is called Dean, the one on my stomach is Sam. One on my thigh is called Lucifer. He had me recite the names like it was fucking Sunday School.”  
    Castiel felt dread climb up his own spine. “And the one on your back?”  
     “Castiel. Because, according to Crowley, I was spineless when I paired up with you.”    
    He closed his eyes and turned away from her.  
    Meg crossed her arms over her chest, watching him brood as he walked back to the bed. “So we can either fight or you can walk…”  
     “We’ve been through this. I’ve no reason to kill you, Meg. I don’t want to and I haven’t wanted to for some time now.” He sat down and stared at her. “And I won’t walk away from you. Like you said, I owe you.”  
     “Two screaming orgasms in a row might call it even,” she muttered lowly and he looked at her.  
     “What?”  
     “Nothing.” She stood across from him and leaned back against the cabinet. “So you owe me… and you let me rot in Hell. Some pal you are.”  
     “I didn’t have a choice.”  
     “Where were you? Playing 'Let’s find my Sanity’ with Dean?”  
    He realized then that she didn’t know anything about the past year. He’d assumed… “Something like that.”  
     “Nice.” She turned away.  
     “I spent a year running for my life in Purgatory… and I still don’t know how I got out.” He blurted it out in a rush and he knew she was surprised when she paused for a long time.  
    Meg looked back over her shoulder again. “Purgatory?”  
    He nodded. “I thought Crowley would delight in telling you.”  
     “Why would he bother to try? He didn’t care about that. He tore out my vocal cords and cut off my ears on odd days just for shits and giggles.” Meg exhaled. “Purgatory, eh?”  
     “I would have come for you if I’d known but no one knew where you were…” He stopped himself and shook his head. “I would have.”  
     “Should haves didn’t get you out of Purgatory soon enough or me out of Hell without torture,” Meg said but the caustic tone was gone. “I’m tired, Castiel. For the first time in a long time. I don’t know how I got out, I don’t know who got me out, and I’m not even sure what changed me there.”  
    He stood up from the bed again and ran his eyes over her. “We’re all different, Meg. Especially now.”  
    She sighed. “What now?”  
     “You could help the Winchesters…,” he started and she shook her head.  
     “Try again.”  
     “We could…” He sighed and shook his head. “I can’t change my loyalties, Meg. But I do owe you and I haven’t forgotten that. When you’re ready to speak to me of what happened, of what you think happened…”  
    She didn’t move as he walked towards her while speaking.  
     “Sorry but I don’t need a therapist.”  
    He sighed unhappily. “We can help each other.”  
     “It won’t work, Clarence. Angels and demons don’t run the same lines. We can’t be friends.”  
     “We’ve already crossed that line, Meg. Long before tonight. But tonight proved we can’t go back to what once was.” He backed off when he saw how close to running she was because of that admission. “I’ll go.”  
     “Probably for the best.” She looked away and he sighed again. He didn’t understand her anymore than he had before. It didn’t matter that his head still spun from the effect of fucking her against the wall, that he could still taste her in his mouth. He didn’t understand Meg but for some reason he doubted she understood herself any better.  
    He was at the door when she cleared her throat. “You’ve still got your old number?”  
    Confused, he looked over his shoulder at her. “Yes.”  
     “Good to know.” Her dark eyes flicked to his and he managed a smile back. “Warn me when you show up next time. My back can’t take a round like that.”  
     Their eyes locked for a minute and she finally gave him a wry smile. “And I want explanations, sooner or later as to what the hell is going on.”  
     He nodded and opened the door. She didn’t stop him and he closed the door slowly behind himself. Once he was out in the cold air again, he rested his head back against the frame and sighed.  
    It took all his discipline to zap back to where he’d left the Winchesters hours earlier, all his strength not to go back in and demanded answers.  
    He had time… he just hoped he wouldn’t live to regret leaving her alone like this again.


End file.
